


Zero Gravity

by Flammenkobold



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: Eiffel and Minkowski at a dinner party, held for them as survivors of the Hephaestus mission.Bickering. Stargazing. Dancing. Zero gravity. Minkowski in a dress.





	Zero Gravity

He finds her outside, in the garden.

Of course the mansion they're at has a garden the size of several football fields, and Eiffel feels like he's landed himself ass-first in the Great Gatsby or something. Minkowski didn't wander too far, just enough that she is barely out of the reach of the light shining through the high windows and creeping over the grass, like reverse shadows.

 She's sitting there on a small bench, staring up at the stars of all things. She looks like some tragic heroine, fallen out of a Jane Austen novel, in her long dress and it really throws Eiffel off. It's a reminder that Commander Minkowski is not just the badass, space amazon that fought their way back to earth and helped bring down Weyland-Yutani Corp's wacky twin.

Technically, he's always known that, but it's utterly jarring to see her in a dress. There is even lace on it, for crying out loud, and it shimmers in the dim light from the windows, like a faraway star, barely visible through the atmosphere.

 "The stars are beautiful tonight," he says and pretends not to see the small flinch Minkowski tries to hide.

 "Better than the party inside," she replies and he waves his arms and shakes his head frantically.

 "No, no, that's not what you're supposed to say. See, I had it all lined up-"

 "Eiffel," she interrupts him with a hint of annoyance and a hint of fondness. Though he might imagine the fondness.

 "What?" He puts his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet, trying for boyish charm. "Have to get with the time, and I missed out on so many movies and memes and other things starting with the letter M."

 Minkowski pinches her nose and slowly stands up, "What do you want?"

 Eiffel shrugs. "Same as you, I'd guess. Some peace and quiet from the bigwigs and nitwits inside."

 “They are annoying, aren’t they?” she says, a bit too enthusiastically. They really must have annoyed the hell out of her, more so than him.

 “Makes you wish you were back in outer space.”

 Minkowski doesn’t reply right away. “Not really, no.” Her brow crinkles in thought and then she continues before Eiffel can open his mouth. “Maybe. I mean I don't miss the aliens and murderous corporate suits-”

 “or the death threats-” he interjects and Minkowski picks right off.

 “-constantly malfunctioning systems.”

 “-being experimented on.”

 “-hidden rooms with secrets.”

 “-genetically enhanced spiders.” A shiver runs down Eiffel’s spine at the memory alone. Minkowski is standing closer to him than before, like they gravitated to each other while talking.

 “-rogue plant monsters,” Minkowski adds and then the somewhat good mood changes, as fast as someone flicking a light switch, or the switch of a detonator. “No, perhaps I do miss that,” she admits quietly and there is a lot more that goes unsaid. A lot more things that neither of them wants to say, but miss terribly.

 Minkowski looks back at the stars and there is a look on her face that he doesn’t even want to name.

 When he talks his own voice sounds rough to him. “Hey,” he starts quietly and she turns her head ever so slightly to him. “You got us out. You got me out.” He doesn’t know if that is any reassurance at all, it really doesn’t feel like it. But he has to say something and the jokes have left the building momentarily. Besides, he has to say it at one point, because that’s one thing he’s learned up there - sometimes you should keep your mouth shut, but sometimes you really shouldn’t, because you might never get another chance to say what you want. And that’s the crux of the matter isn’t it?

 This party is for them, a celebration for their not so glorious return to Earth and an excuse to parade them around. It’s also the first time in weeks that he’s seen her in person. It might very well be the last time, if he’s honest. Because what do they have in common, aside from surviving several years of hell in a flying tin can and annoying each other? She’s got a life to return to and a future to built; he has… a promise to keep. To Hera. To Annie.

 “And to be honest I never thought I’d return in the first place,” he shrugs and she looks back at him, eyebrows drawn together and worry in her eyes. So he raises his arms, twirls around. “Yet here I am! this is me. There's nowhere else on earth I'd rather be,” he sings and gives her a bright smile. It draws out a short laugh from her.

 “You’re an idiot,” Minkowski says and this time he definitely doesn’t imagine the fondness in her voice and eyes.

 “Better me than you,” he replies easily and she snorts. Silence falls over them again, but it’s a lot more comfortable than before.

  That's when the gentle music creeping out of the open windows changes. It's soft and precise and the kind that still haunts Eiffel's nightmares. It's the kind of music that make his whole body lock up in terror. He barely dares to breathe and his eyes frantically find Minkowski, who stands stock still next to him. More ready for fight than flight, he's sure.

 Then the tunes twist and a hard beat underlines them and he lets out a shaky breath. Next to him Minkowski does the same, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

 "Jesus Christ Superstar," he mutters, "for a second I- uhh never mind." He scratches the back of his neck, feeling sheepish for being so dumb.

 Minkowski nods jerkily. "Yes, exactly. Never mind." Her voice is firm and her words clipped, but she sounds a bit off.

 His eyes catch hers again. Hysteria bubbles up his throat and then they're both bursting into laughter. It's hard and too loud, but it's better than any music in the universe. He doubles over and Minkowski clutches at his biceps, to keep herself upright. She lets out what is the closest to giggles he's ever heard from her, between peals of laughter, and even he won't tell her that to her face.

When he finally catches his breath, a stupid idea grabs him. One of the good kind of stupid, the ones he likes. So he holds out his hand. "Hey, wanna dance?" he asks and Minkowski looks at him with raised eyebrows, a look he knows all too well. He wiggles his own eyebrows in return. "Come on," he teases, "you know you want to."

 Minkowski sighs deeply, but she grits out a long-suffering, "Fine." There is the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth that makes him grin a bit wider.

 “Really?” he asks, still holding out his hand.

 “Really, you idiot,” she says, takes his hand and spins herself around before leaning back far enough that both of their arms are outstretched.

He snorts and pulls her back in. Her arm bumps his, as he tries to put his hand on her waist and she tries the same with him.

 “Hey, I thought I was supposed to lead!” he teases, as she swats at his hand.

 “Can you even lead?”

 “You hurt me, deeply. I’m an excellent leader,” he says and promptly steps on her toes. She almost punches him in retaliation, but opts to loudly yell into his ear and hop on one toe.

 “I can feel that,” Minkowski snaps at him.

 “Sorry, sorry, my bad,” he says. He aims for apologetic but it gets lost in the laughter he tries to suppress. “Just give me another chance.”

“I’ll give you something, alright.” She glares daggers at him and it almost makes him swallow his laughter.

 “Come on.”

 “Perhaps I should lead. I’m still your commanding officer, you know,” she says, but he knows he almost got her.

 “And no one would doubt it,” he reassures her. If anything else, whatever may or may not happen in the future, that’s the one thing that he doesn't doubt. She’s always going to be his commander. “But look I’m taller. Dancing is about aesthetics right? Not about command structure.”

 “Really?”

 He gives her a bright smile and drawls out another, “Come on.”

 Minkowski grumbles something unintelligible, but her shoulders relax and she looks up at him with a wry smile. “Fine.”

 He draws her closer again, and her head almost rests on his chest. He sometimes forgets how small she actually is, compared to him. On the Hephaestus it never registered, not when they were flying around and Minkowski having a presence larger than the station.

 He opts for something simple. Minkowski might be able to re-imagine entire dance choreographies from several musicals, but Eiffel isn’t exactly Fred Astaire. So he just goes for a slow waltz, something he’s learned seemingly a lifetime ago, when his life had been simpler, if not exactly easier.

 They fall into a rhythm, swaying softly from side to side, in perfect time with the music flittering through the open windows. Eiffel looks up at the stars, Minkowski warm and alive in his arms, and for just one moment he feels like he's back in zero gravity.

 The music fades out and a new song starts, something faster and happier and Eiffel doesn’t feel like dancing to it. He slowly brings them to a stop and for a moment just holds on to her.

 Her hand tightens on his shoulder and he’s prepared to let go, but then she loosens her grip and instead pulls him into a real hug.

 “Hey there,” he mutters and returns the hug just as fiercely. Eiffel presses a kiss to her hair, and it doesn’t smell like standard issue, space station, dry shampoo or the terrible substitute stuff Hilbert used to cook up.

 “Renée?” Another voice echoes from the mansion. “Are you out here?”

 Right, here she is Renée, not Lieutenant-Commander Minkowski and there are other people in this universe despite them, an alien, a clone and an artificial intelligence.

 She squeezes him tight for a second longer, before extricating herself.

 “Be there in a minute!” she yells back and gives him an almost apologetic smile.

 “See you around, I guess?” he tries for nonchalance, but probably misses it by a few lightyears. Cause this is it, isn’t it? The goodbye they’ve been avoiding for some time, but that has been coming.

 “Yes, I-” she hesitates for a moment. “Yes, definitely.” Minkowski misses reassurance by the same measurement he missed nonchalance, so they are even. She turns around, towards where her husband is waiting in the illuminated glass doors, but after a few steps faces him again.

 “Doug?”

 “Yes?”

 “I’m going to miss you,” she admits and looks the part.

 It makes him swallow. “Me too, Commander, me too.”

 Her face contorts into something like she is about to cry and that’s all kinds of wrong in his book. But she squares her shoulders, schools her face and gives him a brisk nod.

“Alright.”

“Alright,” he echoes and watches her go.

He wants to yell something silly after her, but the only thing his treacherous mind comes up with is, "We'll always have Paris." But Paris isn’t for him. Doug Eiffel only got the equivalent of Tatooine waiting for him.

But that's okay, he's got super soldier serum running through his veins and he remembers what flying is like. Got to count for something.

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was written for the Wolf359 Big Bang 2017, and I had lots of fun doing it!
> 
> [Internsnicket](https://internsnicket.tumblr.com/post/161735918112/really) over on tumblr did the amazing art piece above for it!


End file.
